#also banging

This is one that I would absolutely write a prompt for on a better day when I’m feeling up to it, not gonna lie.

Headcanon 100% accepted—

Eskel, when they’re at home, has to have something in his mouth every time they fuck, whether it’s him biting down on a pillow, or a strip of leather, or if it’s him gagging on Geralt’s fingers, because when things get intense Eskel gets loud and the one mortifying noise complaint was enough for him, thank you very much.

But when they go on their seemingly innocent camping trips, “oh, we’re just gonna go into the woods, reconnect with nature. That’s the thing these days, isn’t it?” And nobody is suspicious at all, it’s good that they’re getting out and getting some sun, “plus it’s survival training, right? In case we get stuck in the middle of nowhere at some point in our lives.” And they’re right! So why stop them?

But what nobody knows is that in the woods, at the little camp Eskel and Geralt set up when they hike out to their clearing, late into the night after they’ve eaten and put out their fire, the owls and crickets and other songs at night are joined by one voice crying out with all the sound he doesn’t get to use any other time.

—

YAAAAYYYY. My pleasure. And I dunno who these ghosts are but I like their style.

27. ‘Remind me whose idea it was to bring a ouija board to game night?’

Pairing: Darcy Lewis/Robbie Reyes

Rating: T

“Remind me whose idea it was to bring a ouija board to game night?” Darcy asked the little white planchette spun over the letters, zipping back and forth as if there were half a dozen hands on it wrestling for control.

“Yours,” several voices said at once.

“I told you it was a bad idea with me here,” Robbie said at her side and she wanted to erase the apology in his voice.

“Ouija boards are always a bad idea,” Jane said and Thor grimaced from behind her shoulder trying not to look as though he were hiding behind tiny Jane. Not that it would have worked.

“Especially Ouija boards found at flea markets,” Clint said.

The lights, already dim overhead to set the mood, flickered and then the bulbs snapped with loud cracks and they were left in the dark. More or less, because light was still pouring in from the city outside even at midnight, enough that Darcy could see the resigned frustration on Robbie’s face.

“Okay, okay,” Darcy said, getting up from her pillow on the floor. “Bad Idea Darcy is my new name. Lemme go get my smudge stick.”

“Bring me back one of your funny sweaters,” Natasha instructed, the least bothered by the planchette which was now vibrating on the top of the coffee table.

“They aren’t fu-….yeah okay,” Darcy said and she hurried down the hall to her room.

She dug through her dresser and then realized all her best sweaters were draped over one piece of furniture or another. She was deciding between one with black and white cat faces patterned in a M.C. Escher style, or a pale pink one heavy with iridescent sequins. She jumped at a soft knock on her door and spun to find Robbie leaning there, dark t-shirt sleeves rolled up on his arms like some kind of Danny Zuko dream man.

“Sorry,” he said, that apologetic half-smile sliding off his face as he looked down at the floor. “I’m gonna head out, it should stop once I’ve left.”

“What? No!” Darcy said. “It’s just a little paranormal activity, no big deal. I don’t want you to go. This whole thing was… a really poorly considered date night. But the point was kind of, you know, you being here.”

Robbie looked up from the floor, eyebrows raised. “Thought it was game night?”

Darcy’s mouth hung loose for a second. “Umm…yes? It- it’s…I planned game night for a date night,” she said, shrugging her shoulders.

A little flash of a grin flickered over Robbie’s face before falling away. He stepped into her room and cocked his head at the two sweaters in her hands.

“I like the cat one,” he said.

Darcy looked down, was about to make a joke about…something, that she hadn’t expected him to be much for sequins or just anything to delay him leaving for the night. But the door to her bedroom banged shut, and Darcy jumped and made an embarrassingly squeaky sound of terror, and Robbie turned and pulled her behind him.

“Oh,” Jane said loudly from the down the hall. “Hey guys. It’s doing a weird thing! It keeps going over the same letters. What’s that… spelling Skis?”

“Issk?” Thor asked, voice bellowing and careful.

“It’s spelling kiss,” Clint shouted flatly. “Just keeps spelling ‘kiss.’ Wonder what it wants?”

Darcy sagged and covered her face with her hands.

“Are they…?” Robbie trailed off, staring at the door.

“Idiots,” Darcy said.

“Oh my,” Natasha said from suspiciously close to the door. “I can’t seem to get this door open.”

“Oh my god,” Darcy muttered.

Robbie turned and Darcy stalled in looking up to meet his eyes. But he was smiling. Well, for Robbie he was smiling, just a small curve to his mouth, more of a crinkle at his eyes than anything else.

“Should probably listen to the ghosts,” Robbie said, one shoulder shrugging gently as his hands curved around her waist. “Otherwise we’ll never make it out of here.”

“Extremely bossy but well meaning ghosts,” Darcy said, nodding absently, losing the urge to raise up to her tiptoes.

Robbie’s hands slid to her back and pulled her gently up to meet his lips as he ducked down. Darcy tried not to mind the way she purred against the first warm touch of his kiss. He didn’t seem to mind at least, only stepped closer, held her tighter, one hand drifting up to her neck, her shirt catching and rucking up with the touch. She thought he might have meant to be gentle but she was a little bossy and well meaning too and she took his face in her hands and answered his soft kiss with a strong, wet, pull of her lips. In moments Robbie had her lifted in his arms and he was licking his way into her mouth, groaning as she stroked her tongue along his.

“We could just stay in here,” Darcy suggested, pulling away to suck in a breath.

“Yeah, yeah,” he agreed, nodding and carrying her in quick steps to the bed. “Safer for the others.”

“Mmhmmmmmm,” Darcy hummed and then squirmed happily under the weight of Robbie, her hands on his shoulders and her legs wrapping around his waist as he pinned her to the bed.

The Great Powers really ran a train on China. The Taipings rawdogged the late Qing, already in need of fluffing after the donkeyshow of the Opium Wars, all of which was brought to a screaming, squirting climax and bukake-fest of the Boxer Rebellion. And then the fin-dom and real watersports started, followed by Sun Yat-sen giving Puyi a Cleveland Steamer.

And then the Manchurian Bang Bus pulled up.